


Max and Berto's Scareitarium of Smut

by HermaiaMoira



Category: Blomsterfangen (1996), Hannibal (TV), Trial & Retribution – Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Drug Use, Halloween crack, Hannigram - Freeform, Happy Halloween!, M/M, Mad Science, Mental Institutions, Mystery, Spooky, groovy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 15:59:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8407816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermaiaMoira/pseuds/HermaiaMoira
Summary: Max and Roberto are on their way to prison when the van breaks down in a spooky woods with the guard and driver out cold. They come across Verger Sanitarium, where they are welcomed by two creepy perverts, Mason Verger and Cordell Doemling. They say the sanitarium is closed, but something weird is going on. Will Max and Berto solve the mystery of Verger Sanitarium, or will they just get high instead? Read and find out!





	

“Hey, wake up. Wake up, man.”

Roberto Bellini opened his eyes to see the other inmate hovering over him.

“You okay?”

He sat up and lifted his hands to his head.

“What happened?”

“The van lost control on the wet gravel. Look.” He gestured to the guard and driver. Both were out cold. “This is our chance to make a break for it before we get locked up in maximum.”

He put his finger to his lips. Roberto nodded and crept toward the unconscious guard. He watched his face as he slipped the ring of keys off of his belt.

“All right, get mine and then I’ll get yours,” the other young man whispered.

“How do I know you won’t just run off without me?”

“I’m not going into these creepy-ass woods alone.”

Roberto looked out the broken window. The woods were, in fact, creepy-ass. It seemed the driver had taken an ill-advised shortcut. The rain was coming down in buckets and a gut-rattling crack of thunder erupted.

“Okay, put out your hands.”

Roberto fumbled through the keys until he found the right fit. When his new companion was released, he took the keys and unlocked Roberto’s hands. Then they slinked out the door and into the rain. As soon as they had stepped quietly away from the van, they dashed into the trees.

“Where are we gonna go?” Roberto asked when the wreck was far behind them.

“Canada, I got some people.”

“Will your people help me out?”

“Sure, man, there’s always someone crashing on the couch.”

“Cool,” Roberto replied. He shivered and crossed his arms. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Max. I was gonna get ten years for smuggling marijuana.”

Roberto nodded.

“I’m Berto. I joined a sort of cult led by a psychopath, helped him kill a woman, and beat a fat kid nearly to death, so… I only got five years.”

“Right.”

They both shuddered, their teeth chattering as the wind picked up. It howled and whipped the branches of the trees about.

“We have to get to shelter or we’re going to freeze,” Berto said.

“Up ahead!”

Max pointed toward a light glowing and flickering through the rain and thrashing branches. They both ran toward it. Soon they came upon an old building. Lightning filled the dark sky just long enough for them to read the sign.

_Verger Sanitarium_

“It’s an abandoned asylum,” Berto gasped.

“Quick!” Max said, “Maybe we can find some prescription medications!”

Berto searched along the side of the building for a window that wasn’t covered in bars.

“Hey,” he heard Max say. He turned to see him holding open the front door.

“Why is it unlocked?”

Max shrugged and stepped inside. When Berto followed, they found that the interior was rather clean.

“Maybe it isn’t abandoned after all?”

“Well, there’s no one at the reception desk,” Berto answered. He walked to the lobby sofa and sat down. He peeled his sopping wet shoes, socks, and jumpsuit away until he was in an undershirt and briefs. Max did the same, undressing to his T-shirt and boxers.

“Well,” he sighed, “Wanna get high?”

“On what?”

“I got some pills, some pot…”

“How? Where did you…?”

He stopped when he saw Max digging down the back of his shorts.

“Oh, god.”

“Hold on, I got a whole pharmacy up there.”

He winced and grunted until he retrieved a double plastic bag. He pulled off the outer bag and tossed it to the side.

“Ugh,” Berto groaned.

“What, you don’t want any?”

The kid thought for a second then said, “Yeah, okay.”

Max plopped down next to him on the couch and offered him the pills. Berto took one and they swallowed them down. Then Max fished a rolled joint and a lighter out of the baggie.

“How did you get all that up there?”

“Practice.”

He took a puff from the joint and passed it over. Berto gave him an impressed nod and smoked.

“See that’s good stuff, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Berto croaked, a string of smoke escaping his lips. He jumped when he heard a sound. “What was that?”

They listened. A click-clacking was advancing toward them from a dark corner of the lobby. Soon, a Great Dane emerged and trotted up to them.

“Holy shit, it’s a dog!”

Max reached out and the large dog licked his hand and sat on his haunches.

“Aw, you’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

A long wet tongue lolled out of his mouth and he panted.

_Oh yes, I’m the best boy, so good, you’re nice!_

“Whoa!” Max cried. “Oh man, these pills are already kicking in. Thought that dog just talked to me!”

Berto leaned forward. The dog turned to him and in a guttural voice said, _the children of the void have neither tongues nor lips to speak. They only stare with hungry, lustful eyes._

“What the fuck?”

“Ha, you’re hearing him too?” Max asked. “What do you say, boy?”

The dog looked back at him.

_Will you be my friend? I like friends. Do you have cookies?_

“Aw, I’m sorry buddy. I’m pretty hungry myself.”

Berto’s eyes were wide.

_What is the point of your sustenance? Your bodies are only sarcophagi for your dead and rotting souls._

“This dog is freakin’ me out, man,” he whispered.

“What do you mean?” Max asked. “He’s a big ol’ sweetie!”

“Yes, I assure you, he’s quite harmless,” a cheery voice called out. They both jumped.

A wooden wheelchair carrying a strange man rolled into view, pushed by another man in a white nurse’s uniform. The two convicts stood up.

“Who are you?” Berto asked.

“I?” The nurse pushed him closer. As lightning flashed they could see the man in the wheelchair had a face that was all sorts of messed up. “I am Mason Verger. I used to run this asylum, before it lost funding. Reagan administration, you see. Never should have voted for that guy.”

“We’re sorry, Sir,” Berto answered, “We thought this building was abandoned."

“And sorry about Reagan,” Max added, “And… all of that there.”

“What?”

You know, your…” He gestured over his own face, “Whatever happened there.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Never mind.” He looked at the nurse.

“Oh, this is my loyal manservant, Cordell,” Mason said. “He has been invaluable to me in these trying times.”

Cordell just grinned placidly.

“If you’d like us to leave,” Berto offered.

“Oh no, stay, stay,” Mason replied. “We have an extra room still made up. You can sleep there until this storm passes. The electricity has gone out, but we do have a backup generator and it’s doing its best.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Berto said.

“It’s no trouble at all,” his voice crooned. “Cordell will show you the way.”

The nurse began to walk toward the hall then turned and made a beckoning motion with his finger.

They followed and Berto whispered to Max, “I have a weird feeling about these guys.”

 _Your primitive senses are correct_ , a growl came from below. Berto looked to see that the dog was trotting along with them. _But they stem from what you know of this space and time. It is what you don’t know that will come without warning._

“Not a huge fan of that dog,” he added.

Cordell glided down the hall with a flashlight leading the way.

“The sanitarium has been publicly defunded for many years. We tried to take on new residents privately, but… they always ask for a transfer. Superstition, of course.”

“Superstition?” Max asked.

“You see,” Cordell informed them, “One of our former patients was a very dangerous fellow named Boris McMurphy. The people of the local town called him ‘Fetus Face.’”

Berto and Max looked at each other in confusion.

“Because his face was all sorts of messed up.”

“Ah,” they both replied.

“That is why my employer does not like to talk about his…” he gestured over his own face, “because McMurphy was the one who did that to him, to make him look like he does.”

“But, he’s gone now, right?” Berto asked.

“Who knows? Not all of the patients were accounted for on release. Sometimes…” He turned with a flourish, flashlight under his chin enhancing all of the shadows of his pudgy face, “We can still hear noises in the walls. As soon as the patients hear rumors about Boris ‘Fetus Face’ McMurphy, they can’t wait to leave.”

He approached an open door.

“Here we are,” he said in a contrastingly buttery voice. “There’s only one bed, and it’s quite small. I hope that’s all right.”

“It’s fine, thanks,” Max said. They looked inside at the tiny twin bed.

“At least the proximity will keep you warm. Oh, and if you wish to remove your wet clothes, I can dry them for you.”

He held out his arms. They glanced at each other.

“What, now?” Max asked.

“Do you have any spare cl…?”

“‘Fraid not,” Cordell interrupted.

Max shrugged and pulled off his undershirt. Berto seemed uneasy for a moment, and then pulled his off as well. They handed them to the nurse.

“Underwear?” he coaxed, making a grabby-hands gesture.

“No thank you,” Berto insisted.

“Suit yourself,” Cordell lilted, and left the room. As he closed the door he sneered, “Sleep tight.”

Berto crossed his arms and stood awkwardly in his very damp and nearly translucent tighty-whities. He looked up at Max and realized he was staring at him.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing I just… just realized, in this light, you have really nice legs.”

“Oh, thanks.”

He glanced downward at Max.

“Are you… do you have a boner?”

“What? No!” Max turned away and walked toward the door. “My shorts are just wet and it makes everything look bigger, you know?”

Berto nodded.

“How long before the cops figure out what happened to the van and come looking for us?”

“We can probably wait out the storm,” Max answered, “But more importantly, we should check this place out.”

“For somewhere to hide?”

“No, man, for pills. Sick guy like that has to have some pain meds.”

Max opened the door a crack and peeked out.

“I think they’re gone.”

They tiptoed out on bare feet.

“So how much pot were you smuggling to land ten years?”

“Five tons.”

“Holy shit, five tons?” Berto asked. They peered around the corner at the end of the hall, Max’s head above Berto’s like a totem pole. An open room with a massive staircase was lit by a single dim lamp. They proceeded to sneak. “Did you shove all of that up your ass?”

Max sighed, “I’m only one man.”

The lamp began to flicker, and as they started to climb the stairs they were left in darkness. Berto bumped his chest into Max’s back.

“This place is spooky,” he whispered. “I almost felt safer in the woods.”

_The night is a whore, her womb never empty of the otherworld’s seed, never ceasing to spew forth demons from her loins._

“Jesus!” Berto shrieked. At the top of the stairs a shadowy mass waited for them.

“What is that?” Max hissed.

“Didn’t you hear?”

“No…”

The shadow’s tail wagged vigorously.

_Hello, friends!_

“Oh, hey, it’s Buddy!” Max said, climbing up to greet him.

_I didn’t see you anymore so I thought you were gone._

“Aw,” Max said, petting and scratching his ears, “That’s because you have no object permanence, isn’t that right, Buddy?”

Berto reluctantly reached out to pet him.

_Nothing is permanent. The only constant is underlying chaos._

Berto retrieved his hand.

“You gonna join us, Buddy? We’re going on a treasure hunt!” Max said.

_Oh boy!_

They moved down the upper floor hallway. The walls were lined with dim sconces and paintings. Berto stopped to look at one. It showed a very stoic, even grim-looking family standing in front of the sanitarium. He looked closer to see that the little boy in front had the face of a pig.

“Max, I think I’m having a bad trip.”

“What? No, my shit doesn’t do that.”

“I don’t know, man.” He gave the painting one last glance and thought he saw light behind the pig-boy’s eyes. “Let’s just keep going.”

They came upon an open door and looked inside. It was a master bedroom with a four-poster bed and canopy. A large bookshelf stood against one wall.

“May be something in here,” Max whispered. He walked over to the bookcase and started fumbling around with the knick knacks, leaving trails in the thin layer of dust. Berto headed to the nightstand and opened the drawer. There was nothing in there except a stack of very vintage pornographic photos.

“Yech… hey, Max look at this.”

He joined him by the bookshelf to show him what he found. Just then, Max pulled on what looked to be a possibly valuable first edition hardcover. The bookcase swung open and the floorboards tilted, spilling them into an opening and down a metal chute.

Max tumbled a bit until he sat up on his bottom and slid out into a basement room. Fluorescent motion sensor lights buzzed and lit up. He squinted from the brightness. He heard the squeaking sound of bare skin against metal. Finally, Berto arrived. His briefs rode all the way up and the waistband was torn. When he stood, his entire backside was red.

“Ow.”

He pulled at his tremendous wedgie.

“Nice ass,” Max commented.

“Thanks.”

The briefs just slipped off and fell to the floor.

“Great. We should go back to the lobby and get our jumpsuits.”

“Well, okay,” Max replied, “If you think it’s really important.”

Berto stared at him and said, “You don’t think it’s important?”

Max shrugged.

“I mean, I think it’s important if you think it’s important.”

A loud thumping clamored down the chute and Berto yelped and leapt into Max’s arms. Buddy came sliding out onto the floor, his tail wagging all the way.

“Aw, he jumped in after us! Good boy!” Max beamed.

The young men shared a gaze into each other’s eyes. Berto wiggled.

“You can put me down now.”

“Are you sure?” Max asked. “I can keep carrying you for a while, if you’re tired or something.”

“I’m sure.”

Max lowered him to his feet.

“Where are we?” Berto whispered. He scanned the room, which was full of chemistry equipment and desks covered in books and papers.

“Looks like a secret lab.”

Berto leaned over a desk and opened up a ledger. There were names of patients listed alongside government stipends. Eventually the list grew shorter.

“Look!” he called out to Max, “Verger Sanitarium is still making claims of being a functioning institution. There are ten names here, and they are getting funding, but where are the patients?”

“Cordell said they keep asking for transfers because of superstition.”

“But after they’ve already received the stipend,” he flipped back a few pages and traced his finger over the names. “See, these people were only here for a couple of days several years ago, but they brought in a paycheck for Verger.”

A piece of paper floated out and Max picked it up.

“This is a formal complaint from a patient saying that they didn’t receive adequate care.”

Berto flipped to the most recent pages of the ledger.

“These patients don’t appear to be real at all. He’s scaring actual patients away so he doesn’t have to use his public funding on them!”

“That’s quite a racket.”

Berto shook his head.

“It just shows that the only frightening thing about a sanitarium is the exploitation and abuse of people with mental illness.”

_Sentience is a mental illness._

Berto chuckled, “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that, Buddy.”

“Let’s see if there are other rooms down here,” Max suggested. Berto headed for the door and Max strayed behind a little bit to discreetly watch him walk. The young man noticed and glanced over his shoulder at him.

“You should get that road burn looked at, you know, put some lotion on it or something… some cold… cold cream or something,” he muttered, pushing his shaggy hair out of his face.

Berto continued toward the door, and maybe swung his hips just a little more as he walked. He was just about to toss his head back and say something snappy as he opened the door, when Max yelped. Berto faced forward and in the doorway stood a hulking man in a hooded coat and seriously messed up face. The stranger lunged toward the naked young man, who was scrambling away as fast as he could on slipping bare feet.

“It’s Fetus Face!” Max hollered, and they both ran behind the chemistry table as he came after them. They darted back and forth with the table between them, skidding on the laboratory floor tiles and bumping into each other. Finally they dodged him and made a mad dash for the door.

Berto was stopped in the doorway by another man, this one with long scraggly gray hair and a sallow face. He made no expression as he grabbed him, got him into a hold, and stuck a needle in his neck. Fetus Face had grappled with Max in the same way.

“Berto!” Max called as he watched helplessly. A moment later he felt the stick in his own neck.

 

Berto sat up and found himself in a field of wild alfalfa.

“Max?”

“No, Berto, it’s only us here.”

He turned to see Buddy sitting amidst the purple flowers. Except now he was even more massive and had two heads sprouted on each side of his usual one. The head on the far right panted with his tongue hanging out and a peaceful expression on his face. The head on the far left was Damon, his former brainwashing cult-leader, wearing a pair of dog ears.

“Whoa…”

“Hi Berto, how’s tricks?” Damon asked.

“I don’t know if I wanna talk to you, man. You kind of fucked me up.”

“What do you mean? Didn’t we have fun?”

“That is your id, Berto. He is your drive to indulge your baser instincts without concern for the consequences,” Buddy told him. “I am your ego. I tell you what your intellect knows to be true.”

“You say some crazy shit, though,” Berto replied.

“Yes, that is because you are crazy. It’s what I have to work with.”

“What about him?” He pointed to the far right.

“That is your superego, Berto. He informs your moral center and your higher self.”

He stared at Superego!Buddy. The dog head panted and cocked his ear.

“Well?”

“I like Max. He is my friend. Friend Max gives me ear scritches.”

“Hrm…”

“He is a bit… underutilized, as you can see.”

“Well maybe all of you can tell me what to do. I’m in a bit of a situation.”

“I think you should fuck Max, fuck him real good!” Damon said.

“Friend Max is my friend!” Superego!Buddy added.

Berto looked at Buddy, who said, “Yes, I agree. Give him a good pounding.”

“Oh!”

“Right in the ass!” Damon declared.

“Ear scritches!”

“Wake up, Berto,” Buddy said calmly. Then he shouted, “Wake up!”

“Berto, hey man… wake up. Come on.”

He opened his eyes. Max was holding his face and gazing at him in worry. He groaned and tried to sit up straight. He felt something cold and metal against his back.

“What happened?”

“They got us, man. We’re in some kind of weird experiment room.”

Berto looked around. They were both crammed together in a giant birdcage hanging a couple of feet off of the ground. Beside them was an operating table with arm and leg restraints, a larger square cage on the floor, a desk covered in more equipment, and a line of giant tubes filled with fluid and floating pig-human hybrids of various sizes and levels of mutation.

“Oh, shit!” Berto exclaimed, bumping Max.

“They took my shorts, too, man. Why would they do that?”

“I think we’re about to be experimented on.”

He stood up, but the cramped quarters caused his ass to hit Max in the face.

“Sorry,” Berto said, “Uh…”

He turned around and pressed into the bars but now his groin was in Max’s face.

“Sorry.”

Max tried to stand and stumbled between Berto’s thighs. He grabbed his hips and Berto helped him up so that they were squished together in their little cage.

“We gotta get out of here,” Max whispered.

“Maybe if we jump up and down we’ll fall.”

“Yeah.”

“And the cage will break open.”

“Your skin is really soft.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay, on three.”

They counted together then started jumping, their naked forms slapping into each other as the cage rocked but held fast.

“Dammit,” Berto hissed.

“We should try it again.”

Max started bouncing by himself, but it seemed more like grinding to be honest. Berto lost his balance and grabbed the bars on either side of him, pinning him against them.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, and then suddenly began to kiss. Berto held Max’s neck and Max clutched at his long hair. The cage rocked again.

“We should fuck.”

“Yeah, I mean, we might be dead soon.”

“That,” Max said, “But mostly because we should fuck.”

“Okay.”

Berto turned him around against the bars and pressed up against him, rubbing his cock between his thighs.

“You have a nice ass too,” he said, reaching around and stroking Max’s cock as it jutted out from the cage.

“Thanks… oh!” Max stopped him, “Wait a second!”

“What?”

Max reached back and bit his lower lip as he dug his fingers up inside of himself.

“Just one more thing.”

He cringed and slowly pulled out another baggie, this one full of ‘shrooms.

“What the fuck?” Berto asked.

“It’s nature’s glove box!” He dropped the baggie on the floor. “Hey, at least with all of that Vaseline we don’t need lube.”

“Right on.”

Max grasped the bars again and wriggled his ass into Berto. The young man gave it a slap and guided his cock inside of him. Max moaned and laid his head on the side of the birdcage. Berto began to pump in and out of him, biting his shoulder. He put his arms around him and covered Max’s hands with his.

“God, this is hot,” he growled.

“Yeah…” Max was breathless and gyrating against him with each thrust.

“We might actually die.”

“I know, this is so hot.”

Berto squeezed and stroked Max’s cock as he fucked him harder, faster. Max’s head was through the bars now, and the whole cage tilted with him. He let his legs drop through and Berto’s weight fell on him as he pumped wildly.

Finally he slowed and made deliberate, shallow thrusts until Max released a long groan and his cum spattered on the floor below. Berto pulled out and the two shifted their weight so that Max sat on the floor of the cage and Berto collapsed in a spider position on his lap. They kissed as Max groped for Berto’s cock and stroked it between them until Berto shuddered and spilled over onto his bare belly.

“Nice.”

“Nice.”

Out of the corner of their eyes, they saw the door start to open.

“Oh no, they’re coming for us!”

Berto held Max tightly as they watched the door push, then halt, then creak open.

_New friends!_

“Buddy!” they both called out.

Buddy wagged his tail and barked.

“This is the end, Buddy,” Max told him sadly. Buddy whined. He went to the desk and started shuffling around the equipment with his nose. He grabbed a set of keys between his teeth and trotted toward them.

“Wow, good job, Buddy!” Berto called. He reached out and took the keys from his mouth.

_There will come a day when you beg for death to relieve you of this gnawing fetid consciousness, but today is not that day._

Berto laughed, “Ha, thanks Buddy, you’re the best.”

He tried different keys in the lock until it popped open and they clumsily climbed out. Max’s leg caught for a moment and he hopped on one foot trying to free himself.

“Do you think there’s a way up to the lobby from here?”

“Maybe,” Berto answered, “But first, there’s a mystery here, and we’re gonna solve it!”

Max righted himself.

“I don’t know, man, I’m fading fast.”

“But…” Berto said softly, “Mystery…”

“Hold on.” Max bent over and grabbed his bag of shrooms. “I’ll be up to your level of enthusiasm in just a sec.”

Berto walked over to him and took one for himself.

“Oh, hey, they’re still warm.”

“I know, right?”

“Let’s go solve a mystery!” Berto said with his mouth full.

“Okay!” Max crowed and they high-fived.

The two peeked out of the doorway and then tip-toed down the empty hallway. At one end was an elevator and at the other, an old wooden door. Berto rattled the handle.

“It’s locked.”

“Let me try,” Max said. He stepped back and gave the door two hard kicks under the knob. The latch busted and it opened easily.

“Awesome,” Berto said.

“I watch a lot of Cops.”

Inside, the room was full of boxes and piles of old clothes. An antique wheelchair sat in the corner.

“These must have belonged to former patients,” Berto remarked, opening a box with files in it. He flipped through the tabs of names and pulled one out.

“Check this out,” he said. He showed Max a patient's file for Boris McMurphy. “It says that he’s nonviolent.”

Max studied the photograph paper-clipped to the file.

“His face doesn’t look fetusy at all!”

“I think we have this whole thing solved. The only trouble now is catching the culprits.”

Max began to dig through some old coats. He lifted a huge, very heavy black trench coat and put it on. It completely engulfed him.

“Hey Berto, look.” He skulked toward him and bellowed, “I am the gweat piwate Wobberts!”

Berto’s eyes widened and he bit his bottom lip.

“I have a plan.”

 

Fetus Face and his gaunt friend sat at a card table in the sanitarium common area. They’d pulled an old Scrabble set from the game cupboard.

“No, ‘impactly’ is not a word.”

“Yes it is. If something impacts something, you know… It does it impactly.”

“You can’t just add ‘ly’ to everything.”

“I know my words.”

“Ssh, shut up,” Fetus Face hissed suddenly. He held out a finger and cocked his head.

“Don’t try to silence my words…”

“Listen,” he whispered and looked at the common room opening. “Do you hear something?”

They both sat quietly. From the direction of the lobby, they heard a strange grunting and snorting. It was drawing nearer.

“What is that?”

The two men stood up and walked cautiously to the entrance. Then, they heard a gasping, raspy voice say, “Revenge… reveeeenge…”

“What the fuck?” the gaunt man whispered. They froze in terror as a figure passed before the doorway. It was dark and hunched. Slowly, it turned to face them. The thing had a snout and fangs and beady pig-eyes.

“It’s one of those mutants!” Fetus Face cried. “It’s alive!”

“Revenge!” the pig man shouted and ran toward them, its head jostling unnaturally.

“Run!” the two shrieked and dashed toward the stairway. The pig man gave chase, following up the stairs with its face turned up at the ceiling and its arms flapping around all limp. It stumbled once but got up and ran again with its body at an impossible angle.

“Where do we go?” the gaunt one yelled.

“Down the chute!” Fetus Face said, darting into the bedroom. “Pigs can’t go down chutes!”

“I don’t think that’s…”

“Come on!” He grabbed his partner and shoved him into the secret opening before jumping in after him. They tumbled down and landed, one on top of each other, into the antique wheelchair. It skidded on the goop spilled over the floor and the whole ensemble shot across the room and into the open cage. Max was waiting there and slammed the door shut. Buddy growled at them. Soon the pig man came sliding down.

“My god,” Fetus Face gasped. “They _can_ go down chutes.”

“No, they can’t!” a muffled voice came from pig-man’s chest. He threw off his coat to reveal Roberto Bellini, standing proud and naked with a pig on his shoulders. “But I can!”

“Now to see who you really are,” Max said.

“There’s only two people it could be,” Berto announced, letting the pig fall to the floor, “Old Man Verger and his trusty manservant, Cordell.”

Max reached through the bars and pulled off the gaunt man’s mask.

“The van driver?!” they stated in unison. Max pulled of Fetus Face’s mask, “And the guard!”

“This was all a big ruse,” Berto said. “You crashed the van and pretended to be unconscious so we would be trapped here by Mr. Verger.”

“And we would have gotten away with it too,” a stiff voice came from the hall. They waited as a squeaking moved steadily toward them. Berto and Max looked at each other.

_Squeak, squeak, squeak…_

Finally, Mason arrived in the doorway, pushed by Cordell.

“If it hadn’t been for our poor planning and general incompetence,” he finished.

“You wanted to capture more victims for your horrifying experiments,” Max accused.

“No!” Mason shouted, “Porn!”

“Porn?”

“Porn!” he declared. “Mad science doesn’t really turn much of a profit anymore. I lure people here and set them in situations where they will inevitably bone and I record them with my hidden cameras and post it on my exclusive website.”

Max and Berto gawked.

“You see,” Cordell explained, “It’s a psychological fact that when people are frightened they become more amorous.”

They drew closer, and Mason continued, “Just to further ensure the results, we also pipe in pheromones through the vents.”

“That explains why we were so horny,” Max mused.

“Actually,” Cordell remarked, “Our system was malfunctioning tonight. You’re both just sluts.”

Max and Berto shrugged and nodded at each other.

Mason went on, “Horror themed pornography with a compelling story is all the rage these days, especially with the ladies.”

“It seems like a lot of trouble to go to,” Max said.

“It’s performance art,” Mason told him. “I give the people what they want.”

“There was no Fetus Face at all,” he replied, “And that includes you.”

Max strode up to Mason, grabbed him by his face, and pulled upward. Mason grunted and Max tried to get a better grip.

“What are you doing?” Cordell cried, “Stop that!”

“Oh.” Max stepped back. “Oh, that’s… just your face. Sorry.”

“It’s… quite all right,” Mason grumbled.

Berto took on a power stance and avowed, “Well, we’re shutting down this whole scam; the porn, the government fraud, everything.”

“I’ll give you ten thousand dollars in cash,” Mason said.

“That will work!” Berto responded with hands on his hips.

“Cordell.”

The manservant walked away at Mason’s command.

“Also,” Max added, “We’re taking the dog.”

“Yeah!”

They both high-fived and Buddy barked.

_If the universe is gracious, we will die before discovering what we truly are._

“Oh, Buddy,” Berto said and laughed. Max looked at him in confusion, but started laughing as well. They continued laughing well after everyone else in the room was very uncomfortable. THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!


End file.
